


I can tell from your eyes, You've never been by the riverside

by sleeplessflower (orphan_account)



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Grinding, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Making Out, Teen AU, Teen Angst, Teenagers, f-slur, kind of PWP, theres sexe stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 21:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12219507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sleeplessflower
Summary: How long have they been friends?When did he first notice?When did it first happen?When did he realise he was into guys?He knows that it’s not something you ‘become’. You’re born like that. He knows that. But he can’t help but ask himself. Because suddenly, Eddie Kaspbrak became a gay boy.Eddie and Richie are gay and? they make out basically





	I can tell from your eyes, You've never been by the riverside

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [First Times A Charm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12150198) by [SpacedOut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpacedOut/pseuds/SpacedOut). 



> helo.  
> so.  
> uhng. im so sorry. but. i needed to do this. the inspiration was _there. right there._  
>  its 3 am so i msorry for any mistakes  
> and another warning for the f-slur (f*g) because its the eighties ! ppl arent really that accepting and yall kno there'd be some internalized homophobia  
> uhh and its teen au so they're 16 going on 17  
> title from riverside by agnes obel

How long have they been friends?

Eddie struggles to remember, thinks of the passing years, thinks back to the time they first met. They were six, right?

Holy crap, that’s almost ten years. That can’t be right. Eddie thinks for a moment, of the year, of his age, and yeah, that’s ten years.

 _Only four years since_ ** _that_** . His mind chimes in and he shakes his head. No reason to think of that, especially in a situation like this.

Right.

This.

 

Eddie steps onto Richie’s porch, hand wavering at the door. Now or never. He knocks, loud and sure, even though his other hand is shaking as it grips the edge of his shorts.

“Just a minute!” he hears Richie call through the house, hears the pounding of rushing feet.

 

The moment Eddie sees Richie’s his mind betrays him. All he can see -- even though it’s been years now, he swears he’ll never forget, even as he locks it in the recess of his mind later in his life -- is that clown, his hand growing, rippling with size, bursting out of the glove, taunting laugh. All he can feel is Richie’s hand gripping his neck, his sure words _‘Eddie, look at me, look at me!’_ and the absolutely batshit scared look in Richie’s eyes, the shaking of his arm, the warmth in his face, the warmth in his chest as he locked eyes with him.

 

“Eddie.” Richie pauses for a moment, and Eddie catches the glint in his eye. “You come to tell me your mom’s finally ready-” he motions up and down himself, his shitty amalgamation of an outfit “-for all this?”

“No! Jesus.” Eddie feels nervous laughter bubble up, escaping his throat like a trapped goose.

“Alright well,” Richie steps aside, letting Eddie in. “Tell me when she is.” a pause, and Richie leans in, his next word a whisper. “I’ll be waiting.”

Eddie chuckles as he walks through Richie’s house, his palms wetting themselves again and again, no matter how many times he wipes them on his pants. Richie’s house is as familiar as ever, and he flings his bag onto the floor as he jumps onto the couch. He can’t go straight to Richie’s room like they usually do, the prospect is still a little intimidating.

“You want anything?” Richie asks, casually heading into the kitchen, not even bothering to sit with Richie first. They’re too close to even bother with that formal shit.

“Nah, ‘m good.” Eddie tries not to let his voice waver.

 

 _“You good, man?”_  was the first thing Richie had said to him once they’d gotten out of the sewer.

 _“Do I look like I’m good?”_ he’d snapped back. In his defense, he was tired, beaten up, mentally scarred, and had just spent god knows how long wading around in grey water. _All for some girl._ His mind told him, curling into spitefulness. He knew that wasn’t it, but everything ached and he had a broken arm, and to add to injury, everything he thought he knew was a fucking lie.

 _“Yeah, fuck. I guess none of us are.”_ Richie pushed the hair out of his face with his hand. There was a silence, as they trudged through the forest -- wet, stinky, sweaty, and hurting all over. Not to mention that **It** wasn’t dead. _“How’s your arm?”_

_“What?”_

_“Your arm, dude. The arm that got totally and absolutely fucked. Your arm that is fucked.”_ Richie quipped, and Eddie won’t admit that he laughed, but he did.

 _“Shit, I forgot it was even broken. Trying not to die does that I guess.”_ Eddie didn’t have it in him to laugh at his own joke. Richie did, apparently.

 _“Yeah.”_ Richie didn’t say anything after that. They walked home, in silence. Eddie waved Richie off, went inside, ran to his mom, cried in her arms.

 

“So what’s up dude?” Richie sat down next to Eddie, can in his hand. Eddie’s mind stutters for a moment.

“Just wanted to hang out, is all.” he scratches at his shirt for a second, nervously.

“Just the two of us?” Richie sips at whatever’s in the can -- beer, soda, who fucking knows -- and leans back. “Kind of a… fag thing isn’t it? Kinda.. Uh, fag-y?” Eddie knows he’s trying to make light of it, trying to to joke, but it hits him in the wrong spot.

 

When did he first notice?

When did it first happen?

When did he realise he was into guys?

When did he become a faggot?

He knows that it’s not something you ‘become’. You’re born like that. He knows that. But he can’t help but ask himself. Because suddenly -- not only to him, to everyone, the bullies, his friends, fucking _everyone_ \-- Eddie Kaspbrak became a gay boy. A fag.

Of course, it happened around the same time that Richie Tozier became a fag. But everyone expected that. Of course, foulmouth, fuck-your-mom, weird little loser boy Richie would be a fag. His parents knew, his friends knew, everyone knew. The only difference between Richie and Eddie was that Richie didn’t care.

 

“Richie.” Eddie doesn’t mean to let his voice warble. “Don’t.” And instantly Richie’s looking away.

“Sorry dude.” His apology is quiet, his nails working at the skin of his upper arm. “I forgot.” Eddie can’t grasp at the idea that Richie forgot. He’s never forgotten Eddie’s birthday, or his favourite movie, or his least favourite candy, or his spare inhaler he always leaves at his house. When all that is just as important, how could Richie forget this? Still, he breathes.

“It’s fine.” he looks to his left, into the hall, up, to the ceiling, in front of him to Richie’s TV, and to his left, just down, right at where Richie’s right hand is on couch, supporting his weight.

 

He moves slow, shifting until his hand is blanketing Richie’s. His hand is warm, and Eddie feels his chest clench with that unmistakeable feeling he gets whenever he touches Richie, whenever Richie touches him. Richie tilts his head up and back, so he can lift the can to his lips again. He flips his hand, slowly, interlocking their fingers. Eddie takes this as incentive, moving slowly, his other hand still shaking, still sweating.

 

_“Fuck, fuck. Dude. Du- ah. Dude.”_

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was feeling.  
It was like he was on fire, like someone struck a match and lit him up from the inside. He couldn’t stop the little twitches that his hips gave in response.

 _“You look so fuckin' hot.”_ Richie’s been whispering in his ear since they started, only other indication his face is as close as it is being the plastic of Richie’s glasses pressed to his cheek. The whole room feels hot and stuffy, and the close proximity they’re in doesn’t help. It was summer, especially hot, and of all things, they’d decided to do _this._

Well, it hadn’t really started out as what they were doing, but it sure ended that way. It had started with some TV, some pizza, and Richie’s parents heading off to work. They had been sitting close, and as the movie got more boring -- one thing lead to another.

 _“Shit.”_ Richie’s breath was hot on his ear, heating it up. _“I think I’m close.”_ his voice was strained, and, for some reason, it made Eddie’s dick do weird things that had him making embarrassing noises.

There was a sound, coming from outside. A snapping. Eddie froze. His heart sped up, his ears perking, eyes widening. He knew itwas irrational, knew it couldn't be, but his anxieties betrayed him.

 _“I just heard something.”_ Richie stopped too, turning his head to look Eddie in the eyes. He didn't look as scared, more concerned, really. His hand blanketed Eddie's, smoothing over it.

 _“Are you sure?”_  Richie was sweaty and gross, his glasses fogged up.

 _“Yeah, it was like, a cracking. It came from outside.”_ Eddie looked out the window behind the TV, and Richie looked too. In an instant, he was getting up, walking hesitantly to the window. He winced, for a moment, as he rolled the blinds shut, and Eddie caught it. They both were thinking the same thing.

 _“It’s cool dude,”_ Richie had said, moving to sit back next to Eddie. _“It’s gone. We’re safe.”_

 

Still moving slow, Eddie shifts close and closer, watching as Richie hesitates with drinking. He looks at Eddie out of the corner of his eye, lips parting. He places the can onto the coffee table in front of him and turns.

They lean in, and their lips meet kind of haphazardly, clashing a little too fast, making their teeth clack. Richie laughs for a moment at the messy movement, and Eddie shushes him. Eventually they find a rhythm, heads slotted together like puzzle pieces, like they were always meant to fit together. It doesn’t speed up, it never needs to -- Eddie distantly remembers how it used to, how it would be rushed, how they would be scared they’d lose each other -- they can take their time.  
Richie’s the first to move, his hand snaking from where it was interlocked with Eddie’s, cupping around the back of his neck, fingers brushing into his hair. He pulls forward, waiting for Eddie to open his mouth, to allow his tongue to slip in. Eddie gasps when this happens, like it’s the first time Richie’s doing it, his hands twitching to grip something as he feels that telltale spark of lust in his lower belly. It dances there, waiting to be fed. Richie pulls back, and Eddie hardly feels like he can breathe. He has to stop, to check he’s not having an asthma attack before he looks up at Richie from under his lashes.

Richie swears under his breath, his fingers dancing along the base of Eddie’s skull as he pulls him in for another kiss. Eddie’s mind swims as they pull each other closer, their kisses slowly but surely becoming more and more fervent. Eddie’s so caught up in the moment, so engrossed in the whispers Richie’s bestowing that he hardly realises his hardon getting palmed.

Eddie pauses, his hands gripping Richie’s forearm, pushing him away. Richie freezes.

“What?” He’s looking Eddie directly in the eyes now. His lips are red -- redder than usual -- and he’s panting, if softly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, totally.”  Eddie pauses. “I…” _Come on dude, now or never. Now or never._ “I want to… y’know.”

It takes Richie a moment, but eventually his eyebrows perk up. He looks up, at the ceiling, and then down, to the couch.

“Are you sure?"

"Yeah.” Eddie waits until Richie’s looking at him again. “I’ve been thinking about asking for a while.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Richie asks. “Dude, we could have been _fucking._ Like, for _ages._ ” and Eddie can feel the laugh crawl up his throat again. It’s still nervous.

“Alright. Okay.” Eddie stands, and Richie throws him a look, before standing too.

“Okay.” He parrots.

 

Richie takes Eddie’s hand -- it’s a light touch, meant for nothing more than to lead, so different from when Eddie gripped his hand when they were running from the sewer, finally free -- and leads him down the hall, up the stairs. The route he takes all the time to Richie’s room is suddenly so nerve wracking.

They get inside, and Richie closes the door, making sure to flick the lock. He turns to where Eddie’s already on the bed, legs folded under him.

“Alright.” He says. “You know what to do.”

“Do I?” Richie says, and Eddie hesitates.

“Yeah. I… I thought you’d done this before.”

“Who told you that?” Richie’s face in crumples into a frown.

“I- no-one told me I just assumed since you talk about it all the time and-”

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

“-Bill talked about how you had that thing for Tess, and how she flirted with you and-”

“She flirted with me?”

“-You just seem so experienced, like you always know what to do and I just assumed!” Eddie scrunches his eyes shut, like when he does when his mom yells at him, but Richie doesn’t say anything else. He’s too busy laughing.

“What? What?!”

“It’s so fucking stupid, dude.” Richie moves over to his bed, crawling so he’s inches from Eddie. “You know I’m saving myself for divorce.” and Eddie can’t help himself, he’s laughing, ducking his head, pressing it into Richie’s chest.

“What, are we getting divorced then?” He asks.

“Yeah, baby, we are getting _so_ divorced tonight.” Richie’s voice becomes something akin to velvet, and Eddie’s chest clenches at the pet name.

Slowly, Richie moves, so they’re back in the rhythm  they had before, and slowly, Eddie can feel the heat in him build. In time he’s writhing, whimpering, unsure that he’ll be able to speak ever again when Richie pulls back.

Eventually, he does, and looks Eddie up and down, bites his lip, and takes off his shirt. Eddie follows suit because, this is how sex works, right?

God, he still feels like such a kid. He doesn’t even know how sex works.

There’s a first time for everything. That’s how things work.

Eddie looks at Riche, at his pale chest, in his eyes, and then he’s sure.

 He kicks off his shoes first, watching as Richie does the same, then he takes off his socks, throwing them so they’re approximately where his shoes are. He then stands, unbuttoning his pants, slipping them off with his briefs. Now he’s naked. And so is Richie.

It’s weird, Eddie’s mouth waters when he sees Richie, naked. He’s not what most people would call hot -- he’s lanky and pale, almost the polar opposite of a ‘hunk’. But seeing him naked, seeing his cock, hard -- _for me, I did that_ \-- is so hot Eddie feels like he might explode.

Eddie walks hesitantly to the bed, climbing back onto it, and Richie follows instantly, he climbs up, and he’s all over Eddie in flash. His hands knead and wander, his lips roam just as much. Eddie practically melts, collapsing onto the bed just as soon as he’s on it, all the while letting loose little noises that, were he with anyone else, he’d be mad at himself for making.

Eddie practically creams himself when Richie puts his hand on his dick. The feeling is so good, so good Eddie can’t stop repeating and stuttering, his hips twitching without hesitation.

“Oh my god,” Richie, starts to move Eddie, position him ,and fuck if Eddie ain’t putty in his hands. “That’s hotter than you mom, Eds.”

“Shut up.” Eddie, feels the courage rise within him, his nervousness boiled away by his arousal. “Just fuck me already.”

“Shit.” Richie stops, leaning over to grab something from his bedside table. “That’s actually -- god that’s hotter than I thought.” he scrabbles to get things together, to get his fingers slicked up.

Within seconds Richie’s teasing a finger at Eddie’s entrance, and Eddie takes a moment to tense. He breathes, focusing on Richie’s face, on his glasses. How hasn’t he taken them off yet? They’re foggy and slip down his nose with every second, only for him to push them back up.

Eventually, Richie works the tip of one finger in, and Eddie allows himself to adjust to the feeling before nodding at Richie to continue. He works it in to the knuckle, and with one in, he easily works in another. With his other hand he’s stroking Eddie’s thigh, whispering compliments and swears throughout. Eddie can feel himself on the edge, the whole situation overstimulating him. As soon as Richie works his fingers in enough and crooks them, just a touch, he’s coming all over Richie’s hand and his own stomach.

“Fuck.” Richie slowly works his hands out, wiping the mess on his sheets. “Sorry dude.”

**Author's Note:**

> of course eddie would blow his load before anything happened hes a teenage boy  
> show ur appreciation and maybe eddie will blow richie? u decide  
> ggo read what this was inspired by bcos theres actually pwp there


End file.
